Start Healing
by i love alex
Summary: Her necklace is missing. And he is the one who is going to find out where it is....Start Healing, a season 7 based fan fic.
1. Sentiment

Authors Note: My first Tiva fic! Set in Season 7.

_ Then I buried myself in romantic sentiment_

_and waited for you…_

They are all sitting on the floor of the basement with their legs, cutely enough, folded like children, even the boys (with a little encouragement from the girls.) They've been hunched over for hours, going through the evidence that seems to be smothering the floor. Ordered not to move until every piece had been sorted and cleared. Needless to say by the fourth hour, the entertainment of the whole thing had swiftly worn off.

Tony picks up the 5th limited edition DVD collectors item of The Godfather in less than an hour, which under any normal circumstance would have impressed him but right now it's just getting ridiculous. Nobody needs to see Michael telling Fredo that he broke his heart more than once, in 5 different copies. Really.

"This is ridiculous, we're never going to find anything in this pile of…." Tony looks around and opens his mouth but is at loss. No word seems sufficient enough to cover the amount of…

"Crap?" Ziva offers with a hint of a grin and Tony lowers the hand that is holding the DVD to give her a look that wavers between aggravation and bemusement. She winks and throws another copy towards him, which he catches, letting his shoulders sag even lower.

"Who needs this much stuff? That's why it's called the limited edition, because it's freakin limited!"

"He was an obsessive collector, Tony. It's a legitimate medical condition." Although McGee's fed up too, it was _ridiculous_.

"Shut it McHoardy, this is probably your crap…" He pauses and turns his head towards Ziva, flashing his eyebrows, "We're going through."

McGee rolls his eyes then throws what appears to be another addition of the monopoly game into another evidence box.

"Are you kidding me? You guys, this is awesome! We get to check out all his cool stuff, hang out together while sitting on the floor _and_ solve a murder case all at the same time." Out of the four of them, Abby's pile is the highest and the most excentric and she hasn't failed to let them all know it, a copious amount of times.

"I agree with Tony, you should only keep things that mean something of value to you, personally. It is all junk eitherwise."

"Otherwise," Tony quickly corrects, "But Ziva is right you should-"

"It should mean something, be special to you because of what it is and who gave it to you, it should mean so much to you that you wouldn't ever want to part with it, even in death."

McGee and Abby only glance at her, but Tony stills almost instantly, his curiosity getting the better of him and he is wondering what she has of value that she would never want to give up when he sees it.

Her gloved left hand leaves the box she has just dropped plastic bags into and brushes against her neck, like she's clutching for something that isn't there, air almost. She swallows against her hand then quickly leaves it, going back to the pile in front of her. It was short, a couple seconds maybe but he's seen it and its not until he's just about finished with the rubble beside him and the rest of them have already picked themselves up off the floor that he realizes that she wasn't grappling for air, but for a chain.

* * *

* * *

Ziva volunteers to stay behind with him (he's been throwing his last couple of things back and forth rather than throwing them out.) And together they move and stack the boxes against one of the walls of the evidence locker, clearing out the room. She notices that he's acting a little off, a little too quiet but leaves him alone, thinking that he's just tired and needs to be with his thoughts.

When they are completely finished and Ziva is already in the elevator, Tony stands a few feet away from the doors and she lets him look at the floor until he eventually brings his head up to look at her.

"What?" She asks with a small smile.

For the past 10 minutes he has been trying to think of ways to bring it up without it seeming like he's prying but he has come to the conclusion that no matter how he asks her, its going to seem exactly like prying. His track record lets him down there, if only slightly.

He slips on a grin as he shakes his head and walks slowly forwards to stand beside her, pushing his thumb against the two. He waits until the doors close and they start to rise.

"So hey…, um I ah, noticed before that you're not wearing that necklace you…_wear_ anymore." He nods down to her chest then looks back up just as she turns her head. She's covered whatever instant reaction she might of had but he can still see it, the soft change of her face, the way her hands have stilled and that her chest stopped moving.

It further dispenses the worry he didn't even realize he had been feeling as they continue to stare at one another, though he's fully prepared to play along, knowing full well that getting the truth out of her wasn't going to be easy. It never was.

"I took it off this morning," She finally breaks away from him, letting their shoulders brush a little as she sticks her hands on her hips, "When I was taking a shower, guess I forgot to put it back on."

There's something about it, her eyes he thinks as he watches them even if she is no longer watching him, and the fact that Ziva _never_ forgets but then as he's repeating it in his head, not at first quite catching what she had actually said, a word, the subject of the entire sentence grabs at his mind and he grins, despite himself.

"Shower?" He says slyly and looks forward, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. Her arms fall off her hips and it's only a couple of seconds before she's right there with him.

"Long, hot shower." She slowly drawls and wriggles both eyebrows up at him just as the elevator dings and opens.

It's the first shy hint of any type of sexual flirtation or connation they've had since…months, a year even. And even though it's over something as shallow as her _showering_, its like they're back again and he's too caught up in that to remember what he had asked her to begin with. They both bounce out of the elevator, eyeing each other up in ways they shouldn't when they aren't _anything. _So he forgets all about that necklace.

For now.


	2. Ignorance

Authors note: Thank you for the reviews! They are extremely appreciated.

Just to **MissingPairings **thank you so much for you comment. I just wanted to try and explain the reasoning behind the shower excuse and why Tony was distracted so easily.

Ziva was thrown for a loop completely; she scrambled for something to say and used the first thing that came to mind. Yes, she's been back for a while and nobody had said a thing so she assumed that either nobody had notice or that they had just let it go. She thought she could swing it by using the 'took it off this morning' line and that he'd buy it because it took him that long to say anything and even realize that she wasn't wearing it anyway.

And Ziva sucks at lying, especially when it's to the people who are closest to her, and I agree, Tony wouldn't be that distracted but he's letting her get away with it. It's all still very on the surface between them, anything too deep and it starts to get too hard, too complicated. It's not so much about him being distracted as him trying to figure out what's going on with her in his head first and like I wrote, it was their first time flirting with one another in awhile, his minds bound to be a little all over the place.

Thank you again for the comment.

_ Ignorance is bliss_

_"Boss says we're not done yet with the evidence."_

Tony dumps his bag down beside his desk and groans as loudly as he can because it's not even nine yet and already his Friday has been ruined. He hears Ziva laugh and turns to glare at her, "Something funny, Da'vid?"

"Not we." She counters, as she points a finger towards him, shooting him with her fake gun. The grin he likes to think as one she will only ever give to him, manages to flatten out his irritation and he can only scoff as he slumps into his desk chair. She can still do it, even after four years.

"Well I guess it figures," He says after a moment and shoves his gun into his desk draw just as she pops up, her chair wheeling out from under her, "Gibbs would only trust me as Senior Field Agent to handle such imperative tasks."

Like he didn't even blink, she's standing like she used to, her hands pressed against his desk, her face way too low, "Imperative?" She whispers as he slowly leans in and neither of them realize that their thumbs are now somehow touching, that McGee got up 5 seconds ago, that there is still life throbbing all around them.

"You heard me, _Agent_ Da'vid." He smirks and lets his eyes wonder. They flick down to her pink cheeks, across her lips, _her lips_ past her chin, over her neck and down towards her-

"The standards of a Senior Field Agent must be getting pretty low then, yes?" She asks softly, and his eyes jump back to hers, his heart starting to thump too heavily against his chest, _again, it's missing again._

He had let it go; her stumbled excuse, the way she had looked, that he had known the second she had opened her mouth that something wasn't quite right. Only because it was easier between the shy flirting, the new case leads and the heavy, heavy staring to just let it slip to the back of his mind. But now that he's aware of it, reminded again of the empty space that seems so obvious he wonders how he hadn't possibly noticed it before.

He's going to have to be careful, that much he knows, because their relationship is anything but secure (was it ever?) and it means letting her figure out what her next move was going to be before he could.

So he puts on a small smile, looking up into her eyes that seem to be deeper, "Well, that depends on how high your standards are, Agent Da'vid."

She just snorts then throws a hip in his direction as she turns, walking back to her desk. And he waits until her back is safely turned before he asks, again.

"You take another hot shower this morning?"

She almost falls off her chair, her butt just finding the edge, _"What?"_

He can't help but laugh a little because it sounds just as bad out loud as it did in his head, "Where's your necklace?"

She moves in a way he expected her too, her mouth falling opening a little like she's offended but he knows she's really more surprised; that he's keeping up with her, that he's not letting it go.

"Tony," She starts, as she looks around her desk for something, "Are you even aware of what necklace you are referring too?"

It deters him completely and he can't help but feel affronted even though he knows it's exactly what her intention was, "Yes I'm aware," He sits up watching bewilderedly as she stops to look for whatever the imaginary object was, a smug grin now spread along her face, "It's the long silvery, golden dangly one with the tiny chain links that lead down to your star-"

Always on cue, Gibbs suddenly appears and he strides towards his desk and drops his cup down before giving Ziva a look that Tony, who is still startled by the last 2 minutes of his life, doesn't miss.

"Why the sudden interest in jewelry, DiNozzo?"

Tony helplessly begins to splutter out an explanation while McGee, who had slipped in between the hot shower and the necklace description, and Ziva look on in utter glee. Gibbs lets him stumble for a moment longer, a faint grin on his face as well, then stands and gives him his own look.

"We gotta go back and recheck the house ladies, grab your gear."

McGee and Ziva are still smiling as they scramble for their jackets and backpacks and Tony waits until she's passing him through the gate of their desks to glare at her in a way that says, it's all _your_ fault.

She merely giggles, brushing past his elbow to skip on ahead.

Purely because once she started, he couldn't stop and above all else, it's just easier to mess with one another they spend the rest of the day, the week, the case trying to one each other against Gibbs. Who carries it for awhile until he gets so fed up by the constant noises of "Hah!" that he stops it instantly by slapping them _both_ on the back of the head.

It's not until Sunday night, after they've solved the case, found the killer and he's too tired to even break open a beer and watch a movie when he starts to think about her again. He's going through moments in his head. Images. Her history, their history. He's pretty airy when it comes to noticing what she wears on a daily basis but he pays attention enough to both know and remember that he can't think of a time when she hasn't worn that necklace.

He tries to think of the last time he saw it and he's staring right up at the ceiling when it hits him.

"_I guess you read my report."_

"_I memorized it!"_

"_You loved him."_

"_I guess I'll never know."_

The days after leaving her (_abandoning, he wants to spit_) in Tel Aviv, he would have a recurring dream, night mare really of himself walking into the squad room and finding her sitting at her desk, a bullet hole right through her heart and just as he would rush over, lifting her up and off her chair she would open her mouth, blood clotting the sides and say to him, _"You should have shot me, Tony."_

It stopped after a while, a month or two of her gone but he had forced himself to block out that last conversation they had together because of it.

He can see and hear it now as though it were one of his movies stuck in his DVR. He gets up out of bed and stands in the middle of his living room, his neck covered in sweat and his stomach nauseous. He goes over it again and then again and then again until he can't stand anymore he's so dizzy.

She wouldn't have given it up willingly, nor taken it off willingly for it to be stolen.

…Africa. Africa meant she was dead, Africa meant Vengeance, Africa meant terrorists had taken her prisoner, had tortured her, hadn't stopped until they could peel away every last shred of anything that was _her_.

He pushes himself off of the couch to shut off his morning alarm, feeling like he might vomit or that he should. She was going to keep hiding it, whatever _it_ was, suppress it so far underneath until it felt like, even to her, that her necklace had just gone missing.

And he knows that in order to get the truth, in order for her to acknowledge it, it might mean that he won't just lose her and she'll be hundreds and miles away from him, he'll lose her and she'll still be standing right there.

He's so exhausted that he keeps the pants that he just spent the night in on, misses four buttons on his shirt and starts to shove on his sneakers rather than his boots but he's not going to stay away. He's going to find out, he's going to push her, push them. It's going to be him.

It's going to be _him_.


	3. For emma

Authors note: Thank you so much for all of the reviews and for your faith in this story, they are very much appreciated.

_With all your lies, you're still very lovable_

_- For emma, Bon Iver_

It's not the first time he's shown up looking half drunk (although, it's been awhile since the DiNozzo defibrillator has made an appearance) and it is a Monday after all but as McGee watches Tony practically stumble out of the elevator and drag his feet over to his desk he gets the feeling that he isn't having trouble walking because he thought the weekend was longer. He look's like _shit_.

"What the hell happened to you? Your 45 minutes late."

Tony half shrugs and mutters out something that sounds too much like, _"Wouldn't you like to know probie,"_ McGee rolls his eyes just as Tony nods from her desk back over to his.

"Where's Ziva?"

It makes him a little more than uncomfortable even though he knows it shouldn't when her not sitting at her desk when he is isn't something to fall apart over, but after last night he's become a little sensitive to the idea of her being anywhere _he can't see. _

McGee drops his gaze back down to his computer, "With Abby downstairs. They locked me out." He grunts indignantly a few seconds passing before his head suddenly shoots up, like the possibilities of why that could be have just come to him.

"Stop drooling, McSucker." Tony jeers as he pushes himself up from his desk, "No wonder they locked you out." He passes him a look and turns the corner leading to the elevator while McGee, able to take in his appearance much closer, frowns slightly. Faint black rings are just below his eyes that seem to be a little blood shot, like he's been drinking too much…or cr-

"What were you really doing last night? You look like you haven't slept at all." He can tell he's hit a nerve as Tony's entire face goes ridged, his eyes tightening the way they always do whenever he's about to be an asshole to someone.

"Well thank you for your observation, Doctor I'll be sure to follow your lead and turn the lights off before dark. Tell boss I'm here." He snaps, almost turning.

"He already knows." Gibbs breezes right past him, almost knocking him over with a grinning Ziva following close behind. She pauses abruptly mid step when Gibbs unblocks her view and she sees him.

"What happened to you?" She repeats softly, her eyes getting a little wide as they trace over him, accounting his limbs, his hands, his feet, those eyes.

And even though his chest felt like it had both expanded and then decreased twice out of relief at the mere sight of her, he's getting sick of the dramatics so he rolls his eyes and then turns away from her, "Nothing."

She scoffs, folding her arms over chest as she watches him sink to his chair, his head falling into the palms of his hands, "Nothing? Tony your shirt is inside out."

He hears the worry in her voice and wants to cringe, now wishing that he had taken the day off because he really doesn't want to do this with her now, in front of everyone, when it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her, "Fashion statement, it's not important." He exasperates.

McGee laughs, his own worry fading, "Look at you, you can't even hold your head up."

Tony slaps his hands to his desk, "It was a heavy week alright? Could everybody just get off my back." He glares heavily over at McGee whose smile wavers and then drops completely when he catches onto the stare Gibbs is giving him as well.

But Ziva doesn't buy it because she knows the difference between him getting swept up over a case and then him putting on his front to push every out whenever something was truly bothering him.

"Tony," She pushes and walks closer towards his desk, "It was a heavy week for all of us that does not explain why you-"

"Enough, Ziva."

He doesn't even need to look up for all three of them to hear the low mutter, creating a silence so immediate it was so though the volume had been put on mute. Tony flicks his eyes from Gibbs back to Ziva, watching her carefully. She shuts her mouth and tilts her head to one side, gathering a composure that's already there though he can still see the flushing pink of her cheeks shining through her blush. And then without another word she turns and walks right out of the squad room, veering left.

Tony follows her until she disappears around the corner and he waits all but 5 seconds before he pops up from his desk, wondering momentarily if Gibbs would stop him. Muttering a sorry in McGee directions he walks past their desks, heading in the direction of the ladies bathroom.

* * *

Like she almost expected him to follow her straight in there, she skips the stalls and walks to the basin instead, twisting one of the faucets on, washing absolutely nothing off her hands. He leans against the door he's just locked and watches her.

He realizes that it's a pretty ballsy move, to begin confronting her in the bathroom of all places but he figures he's more likely to get something out of her in a space that oddly enough, belongs to them.

"I know what it's like to lose something, you know."

His voice echoes throughout the room but its soft and quiet and it's comes out in a way that he didn't expect. It makes him a little nervous as her eyes immediately shut and then quickly reopen, like she remembered that he was watching her through the mirror.

She flicks out her hands and moves to grab a paper towel, keeping her face locked on the basin, on the towel dispenser, on the floor.

"Why didn't you sleep last night, Tony?" She asks once there's nothing else to play with.

She looks up at him, her elbows popping out as she leans her hands against the counter and he steps towards her before he can even stop to think.

"You can talk to me, Ziva." He says softly as they both stand arm to arm without looking at one another, " About anything, you know that right?" He tries to bump her with his arm but it's more like a graze and it turns them ever so slightly so that now she's shifted towards him and he's leaning over her, finding that curve of her neck.

She laughs but it's half hearted, her eyes flicking across his chin, "There is nothing to talk about other than the question of why you look so stringed out, Tony."

Their eyes eventually meet, the space between them still wide enough so that if she wanted to move away from him, she could. He looks at her for a long moment before he sighs and breaks out a little grin, "Strung out."

It grounds her slightly and she makes a face and moves back, only slightly.

"Did you have a date?" She asks vaguely, looking away and finding a sudden intrigue in the hem of her lavender shirt.

He's so shocked he almost yells out the, "What? No, of course not."

She nods to her self, grinning as she hums. Flicking her eyes back over to him, she wriggles her eyebrows. Regaining a sense of her self she didn't have when she had walked into the bathroom.

"Mmmm, you don't look perky enough."

He wants to shake his head and tell her to stop because somehow she's squirmed her little way out again and he's finding himself going right along with it. But he decides as he frowns over at her teasingly, that he's pushed it as far as it was going to go for the moment.

"Oh yeah? Maybe she wore me out all night with her kungfu bedroom moves." He moves his hands around in fighting stances to get her to laugh, which she does, shaking her head at him like he's the biggest idiot in the world.

"I thought I was the ninja." She says once she's stopped, sliding back over to him, her eyes almost fluttering up to meet his.

His smile fades as he looks across her face, "You are." He whispers and even though she cannot possibly know, her eyes soften and she looks at him like she really does.

He opens his mouth, her name against his lips when she moves a hand up and he stills, becoming frozen like he was almost a month ago when she had changed the point score dramatically from Tony 1 to Ziva 4. And like she might just kiss him again, her tiny hand fits across the space of his ear and his neck and she stands to her full height, leaning into him like she shouldn't, "Stop worrying about me, Tony. I am fine." She nudges him gently with her knuckles before dropping them, gazing at him for a moment before she turns, unlocks the door and leaves him alone to unravel his beating heart.

He stands there, feeling a little lost and a full 10 minutes go by before he eventually moves, turning over to the sink to splash his face with cold water. Maybe, just maybe, she was fine and leaving her alone would mean something more than finding out the truth. He shakes his head a little, standing up just as Dorlores Bromsten from Human Resources swings through the door, a horrified look plastered across her face once she sees him there. Chuckling a little he shrugs and jets right past her, moaning inwardly once he's out, that was all he needed right now, another warning for sexual harassment.

Instead of walking back to the squad he goes to the men's restroom, locking himself in one of the empty stalls. Going over last night and this morning in his head. _She was okay, she was okay. _He repeats it like a mantra seeing if it stuck but blocking out that necklace was starting to feel like blocking out the sun. Shining exasperatingly in his face until he did something about it. He gets up after another 5 minutes of going over their last conversation in his head, and walks back to the squad room, sitting at his desk and looking over at her like things were normal.

And for the day, they are. She pokes and pricks and he taunts and stares.

But he wakes up at 4 in the morning, the nightmare coming back to him like clockwork.

_You should have shot me, Tony_


	4. Build

Authors: A reviews thank you again, they really do mean a lot.

_I'd search forever_

_Just to bring you home_

_- I'd Come For You, Nickelback_

A week passes after their conversation in the bathroom and he half lets it and half watches it, prepared to wait for the right moment or even still, for them to be alone. He's starting to think that she's doing it on purpose, making sure that they weren't the only ones left in a room together, looking for McGee when she would usually look for him, excusing herself to go to the bathroom when she realized only the two of them were sitting at their desks, but she's going about it so subtly that he really has no idea.

It's not until the following Monday when he finally gets his chance. They are sent on a call out together. She drives them only because Gibbs told her that she wasn't allowed to drive herself and the whole ride is spent in a silence that she ignores but he pays attention to and decides he has had enough of.

"Your not by any chance, avoiding me are you, Agent Da'vid?" He asks her once they stop and are getting out of the car. He tries hard to keep the wavering tone of anxiety out of his voice but he can still hear it, like he's 13 and offended his only friend in the world has stopped speaking to him.

She shoots him a look without answering the question, walking up the path of the house they have just parked in front of.

"Seriously though," He continues, following her, "You've barely spoken three words to me all week."

She stops the hand that was going up to press the doorbell and turns swiftly, a familiar grin on her face.

"Little sensitive, are we Tony?" She bites her tongue in a way that used to tease the hell outta him, baiting him for an answer.

He leans against the banister as he looks at her, folding his arms across his chest, "No. A little confused maybe."

She rolls her eyes, her playful grin slipping and turns back around, pressing the button, "You are being silly. I am not avoiding you, Tony."

"Just lying to me then?" It falls out of his mouth in one breath and he watches as her back immediately stiffens, her shoulders rising and a gasp of air falls out of her mouth, _lying._

The word seems to smack the two of them together and tear right through that line, breaking them apart.

She give herself what he counts as 6 seconds before she lifts her finger to press the doorbell again, unnecessarily hard, her finger turning white, "I don't know what you are talking about." The sound of the bell rings through the air for a long moment until she suddenly drops both of her both arms, letting them hang limply at either side of her body, like she's just given up.

He shoves himself so hard off the banister that it shakes, "Gibbs know?" _Fight me_, he wants to scream, _this isn't you, fight me._

She breathes in and out, hard and fast and he knows she's only trying to work out where she's going to go next, either through the door or through him. She chooses the former, digging her hand inside her pocket and pulling out a pair of pliers, beginning to pick the lock.

"Does Gibbs know what?" She asks as she fiddlers with the metal, it slips out of her hands as they tremble against the heavy onset of emotions she is desperately trying to discourage. Though Ziva hiding her anger has never been something she has been very good at.

"Where your necklace is?" He asks lowly and he's standing barely a foot behind her.

She shakes the door, her hands failing her, "If he does?"

He shuts his eyes, they are not going to do _this_ again, they just aren't, "Ziva, do not do this again. Please."

"I am not doing anything, Tony. Just drop it, you are the one who is turning this into something it's not." She spits, now giving up on unpicking the lock all together.

"Then what is it?" He asks softly.

She shakes her head and digs the metal in again, "It's none of your business. I told you, I'm fine. _Drop it_."

"I know it gets lost on for the most part, Ziva but you're my partner and something that is bothering my partner affects me therefore making it my business."

She almost falls through the front door after she's twisted the doorknob, finally breaking them in. She whirls around as he still stands on the other side of the door, her face full of anger, "Is that so, Tony? It really worked out well for you the last time something that was bothering me affected you and you made it your business."

It's like his whole stomach gets pummeled to the floor and he can see that she regrets saying it almost immediately but it's too late and the bitter memories crawl up his throat like venom.

"Yeah I had to save your ass, Ziva, you remember that? You wanted to go and kill yourself by terrorists who get off on mutilating Mossad officers." His voice gaining in volume as every word hits each nerve and he pushes forward and she doesn't move back, like she was ready for him to finally lash out on her.

He heaves in and out, pacing a little from side to side, his hands like fists, his eyes digging into hers, " I can see what your doing, you got so buried by everything that was going on, by your father, by Gibbs by _me_, by people failing you, you felt like there wasn't a way out...I'm not going to let that happen again, Ziva. I'm _not_ going to lose you again." The words get caught in his throat and he turns away from her, her face falling completely. He turns back around after a few moments, his shoulder rising and falling as he pants heavily into his palms, trying to calm himself down.

She hesitates, wanting to go to him, his hands hiding his face but she stays where she is, the space between them that neutral ground of going neither forward nor back.

"What do you want me from me, Tony?" She finally asks and he stops moving.

"I just want you to talk to me. I want the truth." His eyes leveling onto hers and he looks so devastated that she has to look away.

"It is gone. End of story." She says, like she's reading off a script, shrugging into the air.

"That simple huh?"

She looks back, staring at him for a long moment before closing the gap between them, getting as close to him as she can before leaning up to brush past his ear, "That simple." Their eyes meet briefly before she turns around, walking towards the still open door.

"We are driving back, it was pointless for Gibbs to send us here."

He watches her step across the front porch and down the steps, leaving him alone once again and it's starting to seem that it's all she's doing lately. He hears her talking to who he assumes is Gibbs and then the snap of a phone.

"Ziva-" He calls helplessly but the heavy growl of an engine drowns it out. Apart of him expects her to leave him there but he knows she won't, no matter how pissed off she is.

He slowly makes his way out, stopping in his tracks when he sees that she's not in the drivers' seat but the passengers. Without a word he slides in, starts the engine and peals away from the curb. This time he expects the silence.

* * *

It beings to rain heavily almost halfway there and he's driving too slow but she doesn't say anything even though he can tell by the way she keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs that she wants too. It's almost pitched black when they eventually make it to the Navy Base, so late that nearly everyone has left and their cars are the only ones parked in the lot, comically of course, yards away from the other. They get to the back and he pulls out the keys once they find the allotted space, throwing them onto the dashboard. Neither of them make any indication to move and for a while all they listen to is the pounding of the rain.

"I lost it. On the Damocles. That is the truth."

He takes his time unbuckling his seat belt and then shifts in his seat, leaning against his door. He can feel her eyes burning into him but he ignores her, choosing instead to watch the drowning of their windshield.

"Really?" He mutters disbelievingly, his eyes unrelentingly fixed.

It's silent for a long moment and he starts to wonder why she hasn't left yet when he feels and then sees her. She's slow, unbuckling her own seat belt to move over towards him, first her legs and then her butt and then she's there, pressed against him, almost in his lap and he can't find the strength anymore and crumples against her, "Why are you doing this?" She whispers and it is neither demanding nor accusing and for a moment he finds himself not giving a shit about that necklace but wanting to tell her that he was sorry, that he wanted this, that he was too afraid, that she meant more to him than anyone.

But he can't. And in that moment, with the softness of the rain, the quiet safeness of the two of them alone he's willing not to be completely honest with her but open, breaking down a thick wall that she has only ever been able to see right through.

So he closes his eyes, his head falling against her shoulder, and lets out a staggered sigh, "I should've helped you. Just, talked to you about…Michael, about what was going on before it all got so…." He can't finish it but he doesn't have to.

Realization sinks through her, as the memories flutter across her mind. It had hurt him just as much as it had hurt her but just because she had moved on didn't mean he had.

"You could not have fixed it, Tony," She whispers softly, her eyes flicking across his face and she shakes her head, wondering for a moment that lasts no more than a mere second if he could have, "We were not talking, we were not…it was not us. You found me, you brought me home, there was nothing you could have done otherwise, it was my mistake and my choice…let it go." She breathes, pressing her nose against his cheek.

"I can't."

She moves back, tugging on his arm a little, "This is not about what could have happened or me going anywhere, because I'm not. I promise. _This_ is my home, Tony. But I need to deal with this, go through it on my own. You asked me then if I could fight, let me fight. Don't ask Gibbs and don't ask McGee, trust me."

He hears it all and it rushes through and around his head, too fast that he doesn't have time to stop and think about it all; that her probably talking to McGee, hurts, that asking her if she could fight had meant that he would always believe she could, that trusting her was never the issue but what breaking protocol for her was, what going to her house that night was, that knowing she was always innocent was.

"Ziva I-" He fumbles, his eyes flicking between hers.

"Please." She urges softly.

She lets go of his arm and ducks her head down to kiss the spot below his ear, resting there for a moment as he tries to bring himself to hang onto her somehow, "Trust me." She breathes and before he can move again she's opening up the car door, falling into the sheets of rain still pounding through the night.

And because she had promised, because it feels like it's all he can do to keep afloat, he believes her. Like it might just be okay this time if he does.

_This is my home, Tony._


	5. Silent Night Part 1

Authors Note: A **massive** apology for the delay, hopefully some of you are still around, haha. This chapter, both part 1 and 2, were by far the hardest to write (it's part of the reason why it took so long) so tell me what you think. Another thank you for the reviews of the last chapter they are truly appreciated.

_Can't you see_

_What you mean to me?_

_(even promises may bleed)_

_I still care for you_

_I still care for you, Ray LaMontagne_

After their conversation in the car, things begin to settle down, to an extent. Everything is at a minimum, the teasing, the talking, and the bantering. She won't look at him if she doesn't have to, which has been the biggest sting of all considering he had never realized how much he both expected it and wanted it. The weeks are flying right off the calendar. He feels like he's in a haze of cases and victims, nothing sticks but he's not really going out of his way to let it.

He goes to work and he checks to see if she's still there, he goes home to wake up in the middle of the night, his sheets in a pool by his feet and his face covered with sweat as he twists around his bed, checking to see if her blood was on his hands.

The only small piece of reassurance are the times when they are completely alone, going up or down the elevator, They won't talk and he can feel the emptiness in the pit of his stomach but he waits, his hand hanging by his side for her to take it and she does, holding onto it for as long as she can until the door dings and opens and she squeezes it quickly before dropping it, telling him in her own way that she was still there and that it was okay.

It's what keeps him going. Keeps him believing. Keeps him hoping.

Before long, Thanksgiving rolls around and they all spend the night at Ducky's, eating until they can't move. It manages to be pleasant and not the least bit awkward until people (Abby and McGee) start reminiscing on previous thanksgiving when their families were all together and alive, and though she tries so hard to hold on, he can see right through it, the bravado plastered across her face. And just when their eyes lock, she stands and excuses herself from the table and he wrenches his eyes back to Abby's and stays. Because she promised.

But, when it's only just a week before Christmas and he's actually starting to feel almost happy with the way things are, she completely crashes and he stops believing.

------

_Tony sits at his desk,_ with absolutely nothing to do. They've been case free for the past four days (knock on wood) and things are looking good for the holidays, they might be able to spend Christmas at home for once.

He had come in late that morning, his alarm hadn't gone off and it had been another bad nightmare, another bad night. He had expected the wrath of Gibbs to rein down upon him as he ducked in at 20 past 9 but was surprised to find the squad room completely empty. So he decided to wait.

And that was what he had been doing for the past hour, waiting. The calls to all three of them had gone unanswered and he was beginning to get frustrated. Being abnormally absent was acceptable, being unreachable wasn't. So when McGee finally comes slowly sauntering in through the gates to his desk, Tony cannot help but be peeved off.

"It's about freaking time, I've been sitting here for an hour and half waiting for you guys." He snaps and shoves himself forwards. He watches as McGee lowers himself almost delicately to his seat.

"Tony." He mutters softly, in an attempt to shrug him off but it's almost laughable. And Tony smirks, "Come on McGee, spit it out, another mutilated corpse, new case, what?"

"Tony." McGee repeats, a little louder, shaking his head and suddenly Tony can see what he had missed just before; the paleness of his face, his dipped lips and his enlarged eyes. His smile fades and he finds himself leaning forward.

"What happened McGee?" He asks lightly. It takes McGee a full 30 seconds to turn his head to face him and another 30 to open his mouth, his bottom lip quivering in a way that lets Tony know that whatever it was, it had nothing to do with any case.

"Ziva had her first flashback."

It's like he's been wired up to take an electric shock and he sits ramrod straight in his seat, his heart picking up in his chest.

"She what? What does that mean?" He hears himself asking because his brain hasn't quite caught up yet and he's grateful that he's sitting down, the squad room suddenly feeling like the underbelly of a ship.

He had pushed the thought so far out of his mind; it wasn't a possibility to him. She was fine. That was it, she had promised and she was _fine. _The word flashback feels like the rock growing in his throat, what the hell did that mean? Flashback.

"Ziva was waiting for her in her lab," McGee starts and Tony hears his own breath hitching, he doesn't have to shut his eyes to see it, "And Abby came up behind her, you know to scare her and she covered Ziva's eyes with her…with her hands and Ziva just lost it, it was bad Tony, I've never seen anyone like that before."

He's standing up, shoving the chair out from under him, adrenaline controlling his every move. But McGee only watches him and shakes his head, "Boss said it wouldn't help if you were there."

He spins madly around and it's impossible to keep his voice down, "What? I could help calm her down better than anyone could." He protests, his eyes moving around the room, not seeing a thing but her face.

McGee lowers his head for a moment and then stands. He swallows nervously before he begins to speak, "Gibbs said no. But Ducky…Ducky is with her, they're all with her, helping her."

He opens his mouth, unable to comprehend that. _He_ should be there; he should be the one calming her down…helping her. He wants to kick the desk.

"So…so why did you leave?" He finally asks.

"Boss sent me up to tell you and me being there wasn't helping anyway, I was helping Abby."

Abby. He leans against Ziva's desk, no longer being able to stand and claws at his hair, "Is..is Abby okay, is she alright?"

McGee nods, "She's fine, Ziva got an elbow in her stomach and she's shaken up but she was the one who moved first, Gibbs was down in Autopsy, I was just coming off the elevator."

"Damn it," Tony breathes and brings a head to his forehead in some attempt to settle the thoughts screaming around his brain.

"This is ridiculous, I'm her _partner_, McGee. I should be down there." He enrages. At this he rises from the desk and throws himself in the direction of the elevator but McGee is quick and before he can even pass his desk, he's standing right in front of him, like a shield and it's one of the first times he's ever physically come against him and rather than the push he's expecting he's confronted with Tony's eyes and it's worse than any physically blow he could have given him.

"I should be down there, McGee." He says softly and his friend nods, gripping a hand to his shoulder and Tony is grateful, the ground beneath him still unstable.

"I know, I would be doing the same thing Tony, believe me, but it's not a good idea, it would've…" His voice falls flat and he looks away, his face still pale and Tony knows exactly what he's trying to say. It would have destroyed him. But the feeling is bitter, not being _allowed_ to see her almost sounds as though he was on death row and she was his last call.

It takes all his willpower to turn around, feet dragging along the carpet and walk back to his desk. He sinks to his chair and stares mindlessly at his computer flashing coordinates to him.

They wait together and he's not paying attention to the time so he doesn't realize that McGee leaves for an hour and comes back with lunch, plunking it on his desk. He leaves it. The nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach having absolutely nothing to do with his appetite.

Finally, _finally _he hears the sound he has been waiting for. The distant ding of the elevator just to the left of the stair well. His eyes wildly spin to the space of the desks.

Gibbs appears, not wearing a jacket and not carrying a cup of coffee and Tony stares at him, his hands gripping to his desk in some attempt of control, he's about to open his mouth when his eyes flick to the right and he at last sees her.

He notices it almost immediately. The slight fragility of her step that wasn't there yesterday, the way she was holding her hands, balled up inside her jacket. But she _looked_ okay and calm and like _Ziva_.

He follows her to her own desk as she takes her seat and pulls herself in. Like it was the most perfectly normal thing for her to do.

"McGee, you got those numbers for me?" Gibbs suddenly asks.

Tony manages to peel his eyes off her for a second to look over at McGee who appears to be just as confused but he only fumbles for a moment and then rises with a folder in hand, "Yes..yes boss."

Tony's hands begin to grow numb from the amount of stress he was putting them under from his hold to the desk but he doesn't care because nothing else could feel more numbing than _this_. He looks back from Ziva to Gibbs and then to Ziva as she types. His chest pushes dangerously against his throat. What the fuck was going on.

"Ziva?" He manages to splutter out and it's so soft that he's surprised when her head lifts and she peers over at him.

He doesn't know how he looks but he can take a guess that it's a lot worse than how she does. But her response doesn't suggest as much as she merely raises her eyebrows and stares him down, "Yes, what is it Tony?"

He tries desperately to communicate to her through their eyes and for a half a second she falters and her lips quiver and he sees it, that part of her that has just self destructed but it's only half a second and she's frowning at him, "What?"

He shakes his head, "No-nothing, sorry."

She shrugs and goes back to her computer.

It's like that part of him that had been hanging on for dear life, breaks and snaps off. And he just can't because after all this time, all this time of letting her go, it had come to this. His hands begin to tremble with anger and his stomach burns from it all. He feels like he's being hit, over and over again and just can't anymore. He can't be here, he just can't be…Tony suddenly stands and shoves his desk draw closed, throwing his knee against it as roughly as he can so the noise roars around the office and his desk almost gets shoved forward.

He feels their eyes against him as he grabs his backpack and swivels around, walking towards the elevator.

"DiNozzo." Gibbs hollers and rises from his desk. But Tony is past reasoning and ignores it, kicking the metal doors. They open and Gibbs isn't fast enough, only at the edge of Ziva's desk when they close and Tony is gone.

Ziva's fists are shoved into her eyes and McGee jumps up blindly going over to comfort her.

"He'll be back, he just needs time to cool down, let off some steam." Gibbs mutters on his way back to his desk, but he doesn't know if he's talking to them or to himself and he sits down, sighing.

"It's better like this." He nods.

Ziva lifts her head, and she frowns, her throat thick with tears she won't shed, "Better for who, him or me?"

Gibbs doesn't answer.

---------------

He's going to run away. He decides, once he's sitting in his car. He can take whatever he has in his backpack and just run. Away. He has enough money, he has his car, he has himself.

God, he sounds like his father. He drives himself back to his apartment, changing into a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt. He shoves his keys into his pocket and grabs his sneakers, out the door in less than 2 minutes.

He does run away. Miles and miles away, he runs until the only sound he can hear is his feet smacking the dirt. He runs until his lungs begin to give way, he runs until he can't see the lights of the city and the sun begins to go down. He runs until she's not the person he's running from but towards. He just runs.

He was sure, he begins to tells himself, that he would be able to handle her dealing with whatever she needed to deal with for as long as she had too but this was too far, too much to let go of any longer. He was going to have to take whatever she was going to give him and play right along, muster all of us will power to push back until something gave way.

He stops once he's at the end of a valley in a park he used to go to with his mother when he was younger, before things had gotten complicated. Before she had gotten sick. There is sweat all across his face and he knows that he's probably crying but it doesn't matter as he heaves for the air to rush back into his body. He was not going to loose her. He repeats it over and over and over again. He couldn't.

He goes in early the next morning, already at his desk when the three of them come in, an array of expressions across each of their faces when they see that he actually came. Ziva's is by far the worst though and he has to grip harder to the pen he is writing with in order to keep it from shaking. She puts down her bag and walks timidly to the front of his desk, knowing that it was were the line now was.

"Tony." She tries softly.

He lifts his head bearing a smile so carefully crafted that it shatters whatever self-preservation she has left, "It's fine." He tells her even though they both know that it isn't.

A new case begins that day, one that will undoubtedly drag them through Christmas Eve, Christmas day and night. They are like strangers; it's slow and awkward and just, not them. But they are adamant, no one falters or throws up a white flag and it continues, like a dance.

On Christmas Eve night, they get a new lead, a girl in a bar tipping them off. One of their prime suspect's who was a regular had just stepped through the door.

Gibbs sends Tony and Ziva.

----

Authors note: This chapter and the next were initially just one chapter but it was far too long, which is what the whole Part 1 and then the Part 2 is about.

Thanks for reading!


	6. Silent Night Part 2

Authors Note: Reviews were great! Thank you so much.

_My hands are tied, my body bruised,_

_She's got me with, nothing to win and nothing left to lose._

_And you give yourself away._

_With or Without You, Scala and Kolacny Brothers_

Their abrupt, albeit forced, partnership is like truce; it's the most comfortable they've been with one another the whole two hour car ride there. He even makes her giggle and he smiles without it hurting, without effort. He looks over at her when they're almost there. She's smiling from something he said and her cheeks are pink from the cold and he almost forgets and thinks about pulling over, about sitting there with her just so they could hang onto it because he hadn't realized that beyond it all, the hurt, the lying, beyond that underlining push of something more, that what he had missed more than anything else was just _being_ with her.

But he keeps driving and swallows it down, gripping harder to the stirring wheel. Being with her wasn't enough anymore.

The bar is packed; they can hear the heavy country music a traffic light away.

"You've got to be kidding me." He murmurs and she can't help but smirk as they pull into the back.

They are stepping out of the car when it starts to hit him, that it's the first time they've ever had to act together, to trust one another after screaming so long ago that they didn't. It makes him uneasy, especially after that care ride, and little on edge and he needs a minute but she's already three steps ahead of him.

"Come on Ziva, slow down." He has to jog to catch up.

He hears her scoff as she waits by the door, a hand on her hip, "Got a motor on your butt woman." He mutters once he's up beside her. She laughs, yanking open the door.

The scene plays before them like an old country western but with more booze and a little less…western. Together they scan the place until Tony spots their guy and nudges her.

"Front and centre." He points to a man in the far corner, slung out from a booth, a beer in either hand.

Without needing to say a word, they take opposites sides, coming to meet in the middle. He sidles up against her as she squares up right beneath his shoulder, like they were putting together a jigsaw puzzle. She fits there, almost perfectly, tall enough that she comes to his neck but small enough to fit right into that space between his shoulder and arm. They fit. Almost perfectly.

"Simon Crison."

The guy, Crison, is like a slug; his movements dull as he cocks his head, "Whose askin?"

"You know what you're missing? The flannel shirt and the cowboy boots, also a bit of wheat sticking outta your mouth would be nice."

Ziva makes a face at Tony's expected spiel, "NCIS." She pulls out her badge to flash and Crison slings around, suddenly becoming a lot more interested at the appearance of Ziva.

"Well well little lady, let's have a drink first before the niceties, I'll pay." A couple of his friends laugh wildly around the table and Tony rolls his eyes, moving forward.

"Come on, let's go Crison. We have to take you in for questioning."

Crison shoves himself up and whirls around. He's drunk as hell and eyes Ziva up in a way that isn't anything other than repulsive.

"I'd rather she question me." He slurs and moves a hand up to her shoulder. Tony twitches but she has never liked nor needed him fighting her battles so he waits for her to take care of it.

"Let go of me." It comes out weak, barely audible and Tony's eyes spin from Crison to her. He definitely wasn't expecting _that_. Something was wrong. He moves, leering forward while bending his shoulder in front of hers.

"You heard her, Crison."

The look on his face is enough for Crison to drop his hand. Ziva practically stumbles backwards and Tony throws out his arm behind her.

"Who are you, her boyfriend?"

The guys at the table again break out into booms of laughter, like it's the funniest thing they've ever heard but all Tony hears is staggered breathing. They pull back slightly as Crison joins in the heckling and laughing from his group.

"Are you okay?" He quietly asks, dropping his own hand from behind her back. She barely nods, "I am fine." But her eyes are dilated and he's worried as hell. He had to get her out, at least into the fresh air.

"Come on, let's go outside for a minute." He tries to push her gently forward but she doesn't budge, "No, I am fine." She repeats and gathers herself up, her head suddenly higher. She moves away from him before he can say anything more and walks back towards the table that is becoming increasingly rowdier.

"Ziva." Tony calls out but there is no use. He hesitates for half a second then quickly strides over to join her.

"Crison, let's go." Her resolve is in control and her voice is solid. It doesn't make Tony feel any better.

What was funny before is now starting to get irritating and Crison swears loudly, tossing his head back, "I ain't going with you anywhere bitch." He's up so surprisingly fast that Ziva nor Tony have time to move and he grabs her around the waist, "But you can come with me."

The laughing begins and like things stop. And start to go real slow, she lunges forward and all hell breaks loose.

Crison is down before Tony can even blink, a blow to his head and she knees him in the groin, shoving him to her left as his friends suddenly look like victims rather than people. They slide right out of the booth and she takes them as they come. She was beginning to lose control.

"Ziva!" Tony yells and hopelessly attempts to grab her but he's soon confronted with two guys from each side.

One takes him around the back while the other kicks him hard in the stomach. Tony staggers back but gets his fist in one of the men's face and shoves him into the other.

"Stop," He yells to another but it's pointless and he knocks him down with an easy blow as more of them, a lot more than he remembers sitting in the booth, come forward.

He keeps her in the corner of his eye and she's kicking them like their pieces of wood, they come forward and she knocks them right down, swinging their hands around and shoving them to the floor.

_This was not good, not good not good_, Tony taunts in his head but he can't get to her while two of them attempt to pin him down again. He's suddenly punched right in the stomach and it winds him, almost crashing him down to the floor. The side of his head begins to sting and he can feel blood but he's not sure where it came from or who hit him with the glass bottle. It was burning out of control, not just seeping and he reaches for his gun as he yells out her name again.

She actually stops this time, swaggering back from hitting another guy. She's panting heavily, her hair falling out of her ponytail. She looks like someone he recognizes, like a trapped lion that's only other option was to take out any possible threat. Like someone who had shoved their gun right into his chest. She glares at him and he's distracted, another hit comes at him from behind. He knocks the guy backwards with an elbow.

"You get outside, _now_." He bellows and it's neither a request nor a suggestion. They are nearly under control; he has one by his neck and he wrestles him down to the floor. She hesitates for less than half a second before she moves, grabbing Crison along the way. The sound of beer bottles hitting the floor and the legs of tables snapping as they get broken into two follow her into the night and she shoves the guy into a car.

Tony, reaching for his gun, doesn't need to use it. They're all down, while the bars other patroness merely watch on. He knows that somebody must have called the police. The entire place looks like a freaking crime scene. He holds himself up; his hands on his knees as he catches his breath and tries to calm the hell down. He could actually kill her, his anger seething in his stomach. That wasn't being okay, that was completely not being okay. He swears loudly as he lifts himself up and throws a leg of a chair onto the counter, "Appreciate it." He mutters and limps out through the doorway.

Two cop cars are already out there along with a car he recognizes. Gibbs. He scoffs. He should've known. The police pass him as they walk in and Tony spots her, standing just in front of their car.

He stalks forward, shaking his head. He has no idea where Gibbs is but it doesn't matter.

She whirls around to meet him, "I had it."

He laughs darkly, his head swinging back, "Right you had it, so that's why 8 guys in there are laying on the floor unconscious, Ziva." He spits her name at her like an insult and she takes it like a knock to the chest.

She hesitates for a moment but then quickly shakes her head, "That was not my fault, he made a move, I took him down. Simple as that." She yells and moves closer towards him.

He rolls his eyes, "Simple as that huh? Completely going ap shit just because we have a suspect whose a redneck with a stick up his ass. I'm surprised you didn't kill him, Ziva, he didn't piss you off enough?"

It's a low blow and he knows it but he's using anything he's got. His chest is killing him, "God I should've never listened to you."

It ignites her and she scoffs indignantly, her eyes piercing through him, "Because anything that comes out of my mouth you directly obey, Tony. You will listen to anyone who will churn out what you choose to believe."

"I believed _you_!" He screams now in front of her, "I believed you to be okay, I believed you to let you go." He was unravelling and he doesn't know what he's saying but it all comes out of his mouth, bitter into the night, "You don't care about anyone other than yourself, Ziva, the only reason you protect other people is to protect yourself. You throw people away like they're nothing."

She slaps him so hard his neck snaps back.

"I care about you more than I have ever cared for myself, I cared for my bother who I killed to _save_ someone else's life." She hisses, her voice almost hysterical, "I cared…I care for my family. You do not ever get to tell me who I do and do not care for."

He staggers back, holding a hand to his check. Tears fresh in his eyes. He had gone too far and her words fall around him, that _she_ had killed Ari. That he _knows_ that she would always let herself be hurt before anyone else, that she cared so deeply for all of them, for him.

They both take a long moment as it settles around them and he hears her creep forward, knowing she was sorry for hitting him.

"I care about you more than anyone else, more than I have ever cared for anything." He tells her softly, like it should hold some weight above what he told her, above what she told him.

Her eyes soften and she nods, "I know." She whispers and steps closer towards him but he turns away, his back against her.

"You keep lying to me and I'm sick of it, I'm sick of being the one you lie to."

He hears her quick intake of breath, feels the tears in her eyes, "Just listen to me..." She begs softly.

"No, Ziva, I'm done listening to you," He swings towards her, holding his face together to meet her, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a bloody lip and what feels like an entire rib cage that's cracked to take care of." He moves to their car just as she reaches out to him, whispering something as she grasps blindly for his fingers, for anything but he quickly takes a step back and pretends that he doesn't hear her. Leaving behind the mess he can't stand to be amongst anymore, like the self-preservation inside him kicking in, finally buffering around the shell of his heart.

But as he climbs into the car, he tries but fails to prevent her words, her voice from crawling up his neck, inside his ears and beneath that shell, _"Please Tony, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."_

He grips his hands to the steering wheel and starts the engine, wheeling into what is becoming an uncontrollable night.

----

Tony holds an arm around his stomach as he winces down to his desk. He was pushing it a little with the cracked ribs but still, his chest hurts like hell.

The squadroom is empty all but McGee and himself; the Christmas party had ended hours ago. He didn't need to be there but he honestly had nowhere else to go. He didn't want to be alone, the base felt like the breathing space he needed for just a minute until he was forced to pull himself together again.

McGee looks over from his desk, "I take it that it got a little out of hand at the bar, Gibbs didn't say much before he left."

Tony lowers his head into his hands, the only thing that doesn't hurt. There is a thin jiggered line hidden just below his hairline hitting his ear where the beer bottle had been thrown at him, the only visible evidence of the brawl.

"More like Ziva did, little doesn't even begin to cover it."

McGee glances at him but otherwise makes no other response. And Tony shifts his arms to look over at him, suddenly thinking. Playing it safe by doing nothing, by listening to her was something he had been forced to deal with but now, so close to the edge with McGee sitting there, he felt like he had it, right there in from of him. Answers. As difficult as they were going to be to get out.

He slowly lifts himself up from his chair, his heart pounding in his chest, and walks around to the front of McGee's desk, his eyes not catching a thing. He stands there and waits for McGee to finally lift his head, like he had known the second Tony had walked in that this was where things were going to go, that it had been the plan all along.

"Ziva talks to you right?" His asks into the silence and McGee stops typing, pulls his hands back to his lap.

"Tony." He sighs.

Tony leans forward with his hands upon his desk, "McGee, I know she's talked to you, to Gibbs. I need to know."

McGee barely shifts back, instead growing closer, meeting Tony in the middle, "She doesn't talk to me, Tony, not really but…I can't."

"Why not?" He growls.

"She is protecting you. Have you ever considered that? That she might not want to tell you because she knows what it'll do to you, to both of you."

He's had enough because he's getting nowhere and he can't just stand there, baiting McGee for the answers he cannot give him, "Probie, I swear to… look we're passed the pathetic hope of salvaging whatever we have left of our relationship, I think we could handle it."

"I really do not think we could."

Neither of them are startled, she's caught them off guard too many times before. But McGee watches as Tony's eyes almost flame out. He barely nods at him just before Tony turns.

She's in between the gates of their gates, her hands hanging by her sides. She's pulled her hair completely out and it almost masks her face, "Is this what it has come to? Your threatening McGee?" She asks quietly.

He begins to walk slowly towards her, "I had no other choice, Ziva, you left me with nothing, you told me nothing."

"I told you I was dealing with it on my own but you keep pushing and pushing. I asked you to trust me, Tony. You don't trust me?"

He stares at her for far too long and her eyes glaze over, because he doesn't, he still doesn't.

She nods her head only once and then spins around and he reaches for her wrist, trying to catch it as she passes, "Ziva don't please…" He starts.

She has it back, snatches it as far away from him as she can, "Leave it alone, Tony."

But as he watches her retreating back he knows he can't. Not anymore.

----

He gives her a 10-minute head start before he begins to look. In the woman's bathroom (nowhere he hasn't been before), the men's room (just because), even the break room when he finally finds her. Just like she found him.

A row of lights of the autopsy room are on and it's not until he's standing in front of the sliding doors, looking through the glass, that he sees her. She's sitting on a stool with her back towards him.

He leans against the metal, his fingers hovering against the button that will let him in. His heart thumps heavily against his chest as he watches her, steadying himself somewhat for what's about to happen. Because McGee was right – he didn't know what it was going to do to them either, but it was like pushing against the door and waiting or smashing right through it. He had to move.

"We gotta stop meeting like this, Ziva."

She lightly tilts her head and moves so that now he can see the side of her face, masked by the shadows of the lights.

"I'm done trying to figure it out." He continues quietly and walks forward, his shaking hands shoved deep into his pockets, "I'm not going to ask anymore, I'm not going to bother you because I give up."

It's silent for a long moment and he's afraid she hasn't heard him but then slowly she rises from the stool and turns to face him.

"You give up?" She asks, hurt present in her eyes.

He shrugs stiffly though his entire body is heavy, filled with a hopelessness, with want, "I'm tired of it. Of all of it, of fighting for you."

It makes her frown, her body leaning back, "Is that what this is about, fighting for me?

He takes another step forward and begins to shake his head, "It's about the truth, it's about being honest. We keep telling each other that we care about one another but we don't, we treat each other like crap, Ziva."

She is shaking her head now, because it's not true, "What do you want, Tony?" She asks, throwing her hands out, "What is it that you _want_?" And she shuts her eyes, gathering her breath, her air.

And because there was nowhere else to go, because they were standing so close to one another with nowhere else to go, he asks for the truth.

"What happened to your necklace, Ziva?" He whispers and nods down to the space where the necklace should be.

Her mouth opens slightly and she stares at him for a moment, confusion etched across her face, "Nothing." She says and shakes her head, looking away from him.

He steps towards her, "What happened to it, Ziva?"

"It does not matter." She replies.

"Ziva!" He yells because he's just so sick of it: that he hasn't been able to talk to her properly in weeks, that she almost looks as bad as she did on her first day back, that they're at this place again, this heartbreaking place.

She launches towards him, her face a torrent of anger and torment, "It got ripped from my neck, Tony. Is that what you wanted to hear? When I was being tortured, when I was being…" She barely turns around and she's shaking and he cannot do anything other than stand there. It stings like he's just been burnt, it goes up to his throat…

"I tried to get it back, tried to retrieve it but I did not have the…resources." She says lowly, her eyes fading out to a place where he cannot, no matter how desperately he wants to, go, "They kept me locked in a cell, a bag over my head for...endless weeks. Every so often they would drag me back to the room, to that same room. I had it my hand when he…when Saleem caught me. He pushed me against…the wall and then turned me around, shoved his gun into my mouth and told me it did not matter what I had around my neck, I was a filthy Jew."

_Oh god, _he wants to double over and clutch his stomach. Wanted to tell her to stop before she started because, _oh god._

He can feel his face begin to crumble, something inside him begin to crumble and he knows that it's what is left of his miserable half assed heart.

"Ziva." He whispers, his throat aching. He stares blindly around the room, feeling like he might be sick or that he might fall over, that he should just _fall_ over, but then she looks at him.

And she can't help but gasp as softly as she can when she takes him in because he looks devastated.

She has only seen him cry once. Jenny was dead. They were making the long 8-hour flight home and he hadn't said a word, letting her order his drinks for him, his food because of course she knew. With 30 minutes till landing and her face glued to the window, sleep impossible, she had felt a tight grasp take hold of her hand and he had squeezed. And just as she had turned, seeing his face quiet in the darkness of the cabin she had squeezed back and he had let go. Turning away from her to hide the tears she had already seen seeping through his closed eyes.

This is different though. Because he can no longer turn away from her. And for a moment she doesn't know what to do with that, that she's made this man cry.

"Tony." She whispers and he shakes his head only slightly and she knows that she is going to have to be the one to make the next move. To disconnect that distant that has felt as though they have both been living on different cotenants of space, of life.

She begins to move, one foot in front of the other and she doesn't stop looking at him the entire time, not until she gets close enough to feel the exhale of air he breathes into her neck.

He feels like it should have felt more pivotal, because they have _never_ hugged before, but all it really is, is calming. He tugs at her, his hands wrapped around her shoulders and his face leans against her neck, his tears melting against her skin. He breathes, taking in as much as he can as it rushes into his mouth and down his throat.

Finding her ear through her hair and gently detangling it he breathes again, whispers her name, kisses her ear lobe and she hears things she doesn't fully comprehend but leaves openly hanging across her heart, _"My. Whole. Life."_

He starts to hold her because she can't find the strength anymore and she lets herself lean on him, tucking her head near his shoulder and her hands along his stomach, finding hiding places inside his jacket

A long moment passes, a of couple minutes at least until he speaks again, "Who?" He asks and finds his hand reaching down to grab hold of hers.

She waits before answering, waiting to know that she can, if she will but its like leaning on something she's found that always been there, it's pure strength. So she opens her mouth and tells him the truth, "My mother."

He doesn't say anything though he doesn't really have to. His hands, his body, saying it all.

After a moment, together like they're linked, they barely lean back from one another and he rests his forehead against hers, pressing his lips against a tear of her cheek.

"Lets get out of here, I'll take you anywhere, we can go anywhere you want."

"I want…I want to go home. Take me _home_, please." She whispers shutting her eyes, her head now against his chest.

He nods and enfolds her under his arm and he kisses her hair again like he can't help it. They walk to turn off the lights, their hands folded into one another, palm to palm. He squeezes it as they step onto the elevator, "Let's go home."

A/N: We're coming to the end! I've got two more chapters to put up but I'm very happy to say that the angst is now over, hee.


	7. Start

Authors Note: Seriously, I'm awful and I'm so sorry but here is the chapter.

Disclaimer: So we all remember that summer of season three right? Well for the purpose of the story, I've ignored the canon of them mainly going to her house and made it his.

_So lay with me in your thinnest dress_

_Fill my heart with each c__aress_

_Between your blissful kisses, whisper_

_Darling, is this love?_

_Can I Stay – Ray LaMontagne_

He keeps one hand on the wheel and one holding her hand as he drives them _home_, to _his_ place without a second thought. It feels natural and familiar even though it's been three years. But without missing a beat, she's leading him up those stairs again like it's only been a day and he realizes with a rushing beat of his heart, that it'll probably be only that from now on. They reach his floor and she waits almost shyly by the door and he manages a quick smile in her direction as he digs the key into the lock.

Even though she hasn't been to his apartment longer than he's been to hers, it still smells exactly the same. Like books, like all he's had to eat for weeks is pizza, like wood, like the vinyl's played on his grandfathers record, like him.

He leaves her at the doorway, letting her take in everything new and anything she might have forgotten. But mainly, like his smell, it's the same. The couch is different but the plasma, his surround sound, the brick wall of framed movie posters are still there, identical to the way she left them almost three years ago. Her eyes move from his living room to his kitchen, over his eating and work desk that is covered in piles of disks, papers, his laptop, and that's when, out of the corner of her, she sees it and turns her head all the way to the left, transfixed. Instead of a wall, there are windows that frame the most beautiful view of D.C. she has ever seen.

"I forgot." She hears herself say almost breathlessly. He chuckles from where she guesses is his bedroom, her eyes glued on the skyline, taking in as much as they can, like their parched.

She had spent hours out on his balcony simply staring out and watching the world from his own little box.

_Gibbs had left and they had taken refuge in each other. Days were spent exhausting through cases but the nights they spent enraptured in one another, together finding the balance of losing him. Mostly they would laugh and drink, watch all of the movies he had wanted to show her. But other times, if it was a bad day and he had been reminded of his failures of replacing a leader that simply wasn't meant to be replaceable, she would tell him she still believed and the line between best friends and lovers would blur as she let him hold her, pick her up, take her to bed. _

_But the time they spent together became frequently slimmer, his assignments from Jenny mounting. His balcony fast became a place where he would find her, usually lying along the deck chair. He remembers waking up without her one morning, the sun barely up and finding her there wrapped up in one of his jumpers. He had shoved her over to make room, taking her freezing hands in the shell of his and mumbling that she should just move in because then he could have her and she could have his view. She had laughed, told him that, 'maybe I will, scruffy man.' _

_It had been one of the last nights, one of the lasts mornings they had spent together. He came over less, she came over less and things had shifted to a point of static ground so that when he did invite her over, it didn't feel right anymore to say yes._

"That was your favorite place in the world, how could you forget?"

"Maybe I just did not want to remember." She mutters under her breath, pressing her face against the glass.

"Nobody looks outta that thing like you do, but then again, given that you're the only other person who has been to the DiNozzo lair in over 3 years, it would probably be why." He mumbles distantly.

It throws her. She steps away from her transfixion and tries to find him in the glow of the fluorescent city lights. It's almost like he's dropped a bomb shell, it's not quite as dramatic but its shocking enough.

"You never brought any of your girls here, Tony? Not even Jeanne?"

She can finally see his eyes, glinting in the shadows in the enclave of his room, "Never brought her here. Not that I could what with the whole undercover façade going on."

"You loved her." She says softly, as if it should mean something.

"Maybe. Maybe I loved her." She hears the crinkle of his jacket as he shrugs it off, "Like you loved…Michael. Maybe that was love." There's a quietness in his voice, a vagueness that pushes on delicacy and she knows why. With everything else now so close to the surface those things that were so commonly known as taboo seem to feel even more fragile.

She begins to walk past his couch, past the entrance of his kitchen and towards him, "I never loved him." She can almost feel the way that he immediately has tightened his face, like he's waiting for the blow.

"Michael was…familiar," She continues softly, "And kind and maybe I did… love him on some level but I was not in love with him, no."

It takes him a moment but he eventually swallows and leans over to slip off his shoes, they thump to the floor as she follows suit by sliding off both boots, leaving them beside the couch.

"In love." He repeats as he watches her creeping slowly towards him. Her eyes hold his and it feels like she's unbearably too far away.

"You were jealous of him." The words push through her mouth, crash down that wall.

She's close enough now that if he wanted to, he could reach out and take her into his hands, wrap his arms around her waist. But he doesn't and waits for her to come to him, like he always in his own delirious way has and she bumps into his knees, pushing them further apart.

He lets out a staggered breath and tries but fails to keep his voice even as his hands reach for her, "You have no idea."

But of course, she does. She knows he had killed Michael for reasons which had nothing to do with jealously, she knows he had been protecting her, hadn't wanted to hurt her but that he cared about her, cared so deeply that he almost didn't know what to do with it so mostly he was furiously jealous, furiously protective, furiously enraptured, furiously with her, beside her, her partner, her friend, her…

Her hands grip to the back of his head and she slides his hair through her fingers in a way that makes his whole body shudder.

"Ziva," He whispers hoarsely, almost sounding like he's begging her for something that he couldn't ever expect to define.

His hands push her sweater up so his thumbs can rub against the skin. And she lets go of his head and puts a hand on either one of his, pushing them up, his fingers brushing along her stomach as they slide against her ribs, the goose bumps spreading. Telling him that it was okay, that they needed this, that she needed _this_.

"Forgive me." She breathes, letting her hands fall back to his face and she shuts her eyes, waiting to hear it, for him to say it but he leans his head against her stomach and kisses her belly button instead.

Her knees almost give way as she moans, his tongue now sliding along her belly, kissing the skin, biting it, finding those places that produce gasps of sounds that fill his ears and shatter his resolve.

"Tony, _please_" She moans but he's merciless, his fingers tracing the band of her cargo pants, pushing them down slightly to press kisses along that hidden skin.

He's trying to slide them off as she's reaching for his shirt and it doesn't really work, the two of them clawing for the other and their heads bump and she can't help but giggle in a way that makes his heart pick up in his chest because she sounds so…_happy_.

"Little antsy are we, _Da'vid_?" He smirks, letting her win as his shirt goes flying in some direction.

Her cheek is against his as she pushes him back with a grin and suddenly he's the one being licked.

She can tell by the sound of his chuckle and by the way he's immediately shut his eyes against the pillow, that he's a little self-conscious. It makes her own cheeks burn and her lips continue to smile as she finds her way up that stomach of his, tracing the skin with the tip of her nose until she's across the shell of his neck, beneath his chin and now he needs to open his eyes.

"You blame me?" She whispers, pressing her lips towards his ear in a way that makes his hands grip to the sheets.

She's resting there against him, their breathing channeling together so that when he breathes in, she breathes out. Her curls fall against his face and he wonders how he ever, how they ever survived those four years without _this_.

"What? She whispers, staring into his eyes as they flick across her face, full of something she can't quite read.

"It took us so long." He whispers so quietly she doesn't quite think she hears it but then he's turning her body gently around and she's letting him peel her shirt right over her head.

He's making his way down her belly again and she's gasping when it suddenly comes flying out of her mouth, "If I was missing, would you come for me again?"

He stops, his lips full against her belly button and pauses, looking up towards her.

"Again." His eyes harden and she can't find the will to breathe, to move, to keep that wall up anymore longer because he's smashed he's way right through.

"And again." He's below her neck, his lips burning as they press against the skin.

"I wouldn't stop." Their eyes catch one another and it's her face he sees once their lips meet and he's immediately blinded. Her hands tug at his hair, pressing him closer and he knows as he tastes her, wedges his nose against her own that he can't possibly ever live without this.

She lets out a moan as he moves from his lips to the corner of her mouth, ghosting along her jaw line. It becomes desperate and needy, like they're making up for lost time or making up for the past year.

"Again," He pants and he's cradling her waist, clawing at her back, his heart feeling like it may burst.

He falls along her stomach and this time he gets her pants off without tugging them, sliding down the zipper like it's made of glass. He's so slow she rocks her hips back which makes him grin so hard his face hurts.

"What do you want, Ziva?" He murmurs, pressing quick kisses upon the new skin he's unveiled.

She leans slowly up on her elbows and keeps her eyes upon him as her tongue lightly pulls out to taste him again and he thinks that he's not going to be able to hold on much longer, "You know what I want."

He licks her skin before those pants come right off and she brings him back down to be against her, his own pants coming off by her own accord and suddenly it's skin to skin and oh god, he just wants to lie there with her.

He has only seen her naked once but he had memorized her, had taken her in like she was his to keep, like he thought he was never going to be able to ever see her again. So he knows, four years later, where her freckles are, where that tattoo is, where she hurt, where she loved.

And his lips trail her body like a map as her hands keep in his hair, her feet locking around his own. He's around the knot of her ankle, the underside of her knee until he gently pushes her legs open and he continues to trace his way inside her thigh as those sounds pop right out of her mouth again and fill up that part of him that had snapped right off.

But he's not ready for her just yet and misses that part of her completely, following back up towards the valley between her breast where he breathes and kisses quietly as she grips to him because damn him, it was so unfair.

She takes his head after a moment and leads him up, kissing him before turning them over. They meld together as she wraps both legs around his waist.

She takes the time to kiss him. Presses her lips against his cheeks, beneath his chin until she's back up to him, smothering her face into the side of his, "I am in love with you."

His shuts his eyes and breathes her in as his throat _aches_ because he can't feel anything else but her, their hearts pounding into one another. He wants to tell her, to whisper it, to fucking scream it because he does, he absolutely does. But right now, he just can't but as she locks her arms around his neck and tightens her legs around her waist, she can feel it anyway.

And as he sinks into her and they race away from any sense of reality, he knows that it wasn't about the necklace, that it never was, but about the healing. That they had started to, she had started to. That being with her, _being with her_, was healing enough.

_My. Whole. Life._

A/N: So I literally rewrote the ending scene 7 or 8 times before I felt comfortable enough with it, haha so tell me what you think of this one.

And I feel the need to just disclaim: The issue of her scars was a constant debate between whether or not she should have them and if he should find them. I kept them out because it didn't feel right, cliché would be the better term and it didn't fit the flow no matter how I tried to write it in. I also don't think she has them – psychological definitely, physical no. But anyway, let me know what you thought!


	8. Healing

A/N: You guys, your lovely lovely lovely comments were so great. I'm so glad the previous chapter made you feel what you felt and that you liked it!

My deepest apologies for another delay, I know how frustrating it can be when an author takes three months to update, haha, so I'm sorry that I've been slow to continue with the story. I appreciate all of the reviews I have received, they're so great and it makes me incredibly happy to know you enjoyed this fic.

Warning of cheese cheese cheese and a tiny bit of fluff. Hee.

Thank you again.

_I have roamed, I have crawled, I have scaled,_

_To be with you_

_Only to be with you_

_Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For, Damien Rice_

Sometime during the early hours of the morning, she leaves him. Carefully disentangling his arm from around her waist she lets go of the hand that had found her wrist and kisses his cheek, lingering there for a few seconds longer, the smile spreading into his warm skin. Bundling herself in a spare blanket and clad in only his button up shirt, she heads for the door. It's snowing lightly and she's an idiot for not wearing more clothes but she wants to feel it. Because something is missing; the weight, the strain, the tightness, something has lifted itself and she needs to feel it. She's hit immediately, the cold cutting like needles against her body but tightening the cloth and tucking her chin inside the covers, it settles and she wriggles her toes out as wide as she can because it is different. Her seeped out heart has freed itself a little.

"I knew I should've locked this door."

She smiles softly and waits for him to come up behind her. She should've known it wouldn't have taken him long.

"Would not have stopped me." She replies with a knowingly sharp nod of her head and he chuckles, leaning over her shoulders to tighten the blanket around her. His fingers slip inside and brush gentle across her shoulders, making her shiver.

"True."

She lets herself lean into him as he sets his arms around her waist, hugging her closer, pressing his mouth against one side of her face.

"You've changed since the last time." He mumbles, almost to himself but she turns slowly in his arms and tilts her eyebrows up in a _what is that supposed to mean_ manner, tightening her lips together that are turning pinker by the minute.

He chuckles a little and rubs her lower back, "Since we've shared a bed, I mean. No emphysema snoring, none of the ninja kicking and…no..no gun." His voice fades a little at the last one, his eyes searching for something in the midst of hers and she knows that he's just gone somewhere he hadn't wanted to.

"No nightmares." She breathes for the both of them.

He looks a little heartbroken and a little disappointed but his hands clutch for her intuitively, "No nightmares."

"It seems that I was not the only one keeping secrets," And she rubs his earlobe between two of her fingers, looking up at in a way that makes his throat hurt, makes him want to pick her up, somehow get even nearer.

"Ziva," He starts but she smiles, looking a little tired but completely lovely.

"Don't my love, we have plenty of time." It rolls off her tongue like she's been saying it for years, comforting him with words that were of a lover and he finds himself leaning in to kiss the very corner of her mouth because she was right. They do have plenty of time.

She curls a foot around one of his ankles and he has to fight the urge not to moan but then she's right there, seeping into his skin, around his neck, through that heart.

"Take me back to bed." She whispers and he smiles, that goofy loopy one, that real one she can spot a mile away and he lifts her right up, her legs lopping around his waist.

They seem to make a home for themselves amongst the sheets, sometimes wrapped up so tight there isn't a beginning or an end and others times so deep inside that it feels like he can touch her fucking soul. And he fits himself between those legs until she can't take anymore and drags him back up with a low growl.

He finds those places he just wants to love, that giggle he gets when he sweeps beneath her knees, the freckles usually hidden by makeup splashed across her cheeks, the way she moans out his name, the way she sometimes can't, her tiny hands clawing at his back and the way she can make him black out and ache with it all.

He's found himself against her back, his head tucked near her neck as she drifts off again. The rise and fall of her chest is calming and as he watches it he knows that it couldn't possibly get any better than this. He's beginning to feel the onset of sleep himself, his eyes not quiet closed when it suddenly dawns on him. It was Christmas morning and they were together, wrapped up in _his_ bed. On Christmas morning. He thinks about shaking her, to let her know, to crack a joke but his eyes are closing before he can begin to, though the smile stays. Yep, Christmas was definitely a DiNozzo holiday.

It's cut abruptly short two hours later when they're cell phones begin to relentlessly buzz from opposite sides of the room.

"Case." Tony groans to her as he sits up disorientated, his hair, she notes, a very cute muddled mess.

She's up a lot faster than him, already dressed and out the door before he can get his shirt on but he uses the time to find that box he's been hiding for the last month and slide it into his pocket.

"Tony!" She hollers from the hallway and he rolls his eyes, slightly amused because it's hilarious and wonderful and annoying as hell all at the same but it's her and it's them.

"Coming dear."

The death stare he gets completely makes up for that fact that he's exhausted.

----------

They manage to make an entrance into the squad room, their arms twitching by their sides, without it seeming like they were…making an entrance but McGee cocks his head up, spotting it a mile away and grins smugly, "Merry Christmas you guys."

Ziva grins sheepishly; setting down her coat while Tony not so seriously frowns and nods towards him.

"Merry Christmas McTinsel, where's bossman."

McGee opens his mouth just as Gibbs breezes through.

"Right here, grab your gear we've got a dead marine."

They scramble for their backpacks and Tony fumbles, suddenly feeling exposed and he drops his bag more than once, cursing under his breath. While Ziva scoffs and rolls her eyes, thinking that he may as well have just stuck a sign to his forehead.

"Problem DiNozzo?" Gibbs starts towards him with a tight frown and he lets his eyes slide to Ziva's because she's not so safe either. She chokes back the near laugh and she suddenly realizes what Abby means by Gibbs miraculously just _knowing_.

Tony swallows heavily as he continues to stare and he meets Ziva's worried eyes but it's only a beat before Gibbs begins walking again, gripping to his coffee mug and they both see it, the subtle twinkled eye grin because of course, he's seen it coming too.

"DiNozzo, Da'vid…keep it outside the office."

Tony stutters, his mouth parting open and he watches her cheeks darken as she smiles, "Will do boss."

They don't really have a chance to keep it inside the office even if they wanted to (and as she bends her body towards him, leaning behind his desk, he does, he so so does) because they're separated for the most part of the day. They see each other briefly before lunch, the elevator instantly becoming their meeting place and of course he flips the switch the second she walks in, reaching for her as she gives him that soft titled smirk because man, it's been so long already.

He marks her collarbone like he's an hormonal teenager ridiculously ridiculously in love and he thinks as he shifts through the paper work stacked in piles on his desk, that maybe he's allowed to be like that if only for wasting so much precious time.

Finally as McGee trails out at half past midnight, winking nonchalantly at the two of them, they're left alone. He sits across from her and watches with a smile as she huffs out a sigh, blowing her hair (that she hadn't had time to straighten) out from her face. She fiddles for a moment with her computer and then finally stands and gives him a smile he hasn't seen, hasn't remembered seeing for a long time.

"Hey stranger."

She smirks, trying to ignore the goose bumps spreading across her arms from the way he is just _looking_ at her and tilts her head up in a lazy _hey_.

"Get over here."

She's grinning when he catches her by her hips and she lowers herself down to his lap. It takes her a moment to settle into his body but when she does, he relaxes, leaning back his head for hers to rest against a shoulder.

They stay quiet for a long moment; the squad room completely empty with the only source of light coming from the windows and the lamp on his desk.

"We can do this, you know, us…you and me, in the office…out of the office, we can do this." He says quietly against the curve of her neck. She nods lightly with a slight hum.

"I know it's not going to be easy but we'll deal with it all, with whatever happens and I'll try Ziva…" He continues, his voice hitching, catching on her name.

"Hey," She whispers and gently turns the side of his face towards her, his eyes open to meet hers, "Tony, I am not…healed from Somalia, from what happened to me there but I am beginning too. And you, you helped me, _you_ are helping me."

He rubs his head a little against her, feeling the warmth of her fingers, the way she could slow down his heartbeat in a matter of seconds, "I didn't help, your doing it all by your stubborn self, surprise surprise."

She smiles softly, "But talking about it, finally…accepting it, you, Tony. You made me do that." Her eyes flick between his, her fingers tugging on his earlobe gently.

"You have got me wrapped tightly around a single finger." She teases, trailing now alongside his chin with her teeth.

"Oh yeah?" He grins hard, impossible to keep his worry. He draws her closer, "These fingers?" He cups her cheek before brushing his lips to hers, letting them sink forward.

They kiss softly, their noses rubbing as the space on the chair suddenly becomes too little, too fast, "Let's get out of here." He breathes against her ear.

She tugs on the collar of his shirt and nods, pulling herself up by taking him with her so that soon she's up on her tiptoes with her arms snacked tightly around his neck.

"You know if Gibbs walked in right now he'd head slap me so hard my teeth would probably fall right outta my mouth."

She snorts and it tickles his chin, her lips leaving a trail until she's at the corner of his mouth, "What Gibbs does not know, will not hurt him."

"Ah, I knew there was a reason I liked you." He teases and as they kiss he decides that her laughing should always be the sound he hears just as he closes his eyes. She bites a little at his lower lip, making him moan loudly into her mouth.

They slip into a hug and he squeezes her sides, moving back slightly, "I gotta run down and bring some paperwork down to Ducky, I'll meet you in the car."

He kisses her forehead then reaches around her for the stack of folders at the edge of his desk, "Keys are in your front jacket pocket." He says as he walks for the elevator.

She frowns, watching him go, because she could've swore she saw him dumping them into his top drawer this morning. But she moves to get ready, switching off her computer, pushing in her chair, reaching for her jacket. She's switching of his lap when her hands dig into the pockets, finding not keys but a small square box.

She pulls it out and fights the urge not to roll her eyes because she should've guessed from his flimsy set up but moving back to her desk and sitting down, flicking on the light, she thinks it's really more sweet than anything.

There's a white ribbon wrapped loosely around it and his handwriting is scrawled against a scrap of paper taped to a corner. And as she places it upon her desk, she feels her heart so deeply pushed inside her, thumping heavily against her skin because he took the time to get her a gift and it was _this_. She slowly lifts the lid, her hands quivering and she is so grateful, so grateful that he left alone for this knowing that it was exactly what she needed.

It's smaller than her previous one but as she gently lifts it up, letting it dangle from her fingers, she thinks it could not be more…_perfect_.

Clasping a palm around it she reaches for his note.

Ziva,

I noticed this was missing, it's not the one you lost, it's not a replacement, it's a gift and it deserves to be worn by someone who can bear it's brilliance.

Merry Christmas, you.

She closes her eyes, letting the tears seep out and onto the paper as she lifts it to her nose, _Asirat Todah, _she breathes and moves with her hands for the back of her neck. It takes her longer to clasp it shut but when it's fixed and sitting perfectly just at the tip of her shirt, she lets herself finally, finally breathe. She breathes it out in staggers; the way he had taken hold of her head, ripping out her hair, that sound it had made when he had thrown it violently across the floor and her ears hearing her moan, the only and last sound she would make for months, and thinking of only giving up.

"Ziva," He whispers.

_Can you fight?_

Her eyes fly open and it's his hand she feels first before she adjusts to the light of the room, to the desks, to the ceiling, to the…quiet.

"Ziva," He repeats, closer and his body is behind hers, "You're right here, you're safe." He almost lets go of her hand but she suddenly grips it harder.

"Do not…just do not let go. It passes."

"We'll let it pass then." And they stand there, together as it passes. The necklace, becoming a fast anchor and as it fades and her shaking stops, his hand is still there.

"Come on, let's go home." He whispers quietly once she's turned her body to his, his relief at finally being able to see her unable to stop him from bringing both arms around her, however afraid he is that she isn't ready.

She nods and it's slipping, the color returning to her cheeks. A smile appears as they walk to the elevator, their hands pressed together.

"Thank you, Tony."

And following her into the elevator he manages to smile too, "Your welcome Ziva."

Fin

A/N: Asirat Todah, ever so grateful. Which is exactly what I am. Thank you for the reviews, thank you for reading. I hoped you liked the story just as much as I enjoyed writing it. The ending is a little vague but I felt it fitting to leave it open rather than have it wrapped up tightly. Hoped you enjoyed, thank you so much again.


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